


The 14:23 from FL to ME

by thefutureisbright



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe – Bus Journey, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Sonia Kaspbrak's funeral, its all v sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 09:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18635284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefutureisbright/pseuds/thefutureisbright
Summary: 'Reason 648 Eddie needed to buy a car: to avoid having to share the Greyhound with 50 other people who could have all manner of diseases lurking beneath the surface of their skin. Tiny bioweapons waiting to spring themselves on him. A huge metal incubator on wheels. Eddie certainly didn’t want to know what was lurking in the fabric of the seats. He’d gotten on the bus at the terminal in Tampa. Bill had driven him. He’d asked Bill if he’d consider driving him all the way to Maine, but Bill had just rolled his eyes and dumped Eddie’s suitcase on the sidewalk. Bill had offered to go with him, of course, but Eddie had said no. Bill didn’t need to drag himself back to Derry, not for Eddie’s sake. Certainly not for Sonia’s sake.'Eddie takes the bus back home to Maine for his mothers funeral. He meets Richie Tozier on the way.





	The 14:23 from FL to ME

 Reason 648 Eddie needed to buy a car: to avoid having to share the Greyhound with 50 other people who could have all manner of diseases lurking beneath the surface of their skin. Tiny bioweapons waiting to spring themselves on him. A huge metal incubator on wheels. Eddie certainly didn’t want to know what was lurking in the fabric of the seats. He’d gotten on the bus at the terminal in Tampa. Bill had driven him. He’d asked Bill if he’d consider driving him all the way to Maine, but Bill had just rolled his eyes and dumped Eddie’s suitcase on the sidewalk. Bill had offered to go with him, of course, but Eddie had said no. Bill didn’t need to drag himself back to Derry, not for Eddie’s sake. Certainly not for Sonia’s sake.

 

The bus had been nearly an hour late. For the duration of that hour, Eddie had just become more and more impatient, pointedly glancing at his phone every two minutes to check the time. No one was waiting with him, and no one was watching him, so the performative sighs and eye-rolls were for no-one but himself. When the bus had finally pulled into the terminal, Eddie’s heart sank. It was full. It was _heaving._ The driver jumped off, glancing around.

 

“Jus’ you, kid?”

 

Eddie blinked.

 

“I – I guess so?”

 

“Hop on, then!”

 

Eddie hopped.

 

As he walked up the tiny steps inside the bus, he was hit with a wall of oppressive, stale smelling heat. The bus was stinking hot, the kind of muggy, heavy heat that reminded Eddie of sweaty days spent indoors, trying desperately to cool off in front of the open fridge doors, or the hellish afternoon he’d spent at Disneyworld with his cousins and they’d made him stand in line for thunder mountain for three hours. Trying not to projectile vomit on the woman sat on the seat closest to the door, Eddie scanned around quickly, trying to locate an empty pair of seats.

 

No such luck.

 

 Every pair of seats was occupied by at least one person. Eddie’s anxious brain entered phase two of ‘ensure fifty hour journey is as pain-free as possible’, and he started picking his way gingerly down the narrow gangway, secretly thankful that he was svelte enough to slip past everyone without jostling any knees or elbows. He debated sitting next to a kind looking woman who was reading what looked like a trashy romance novel, judging by the guy on the cover who was shirtless, brandishing a thorny rose between his teeth. When he approached the empty aisle seat, however, the woman swiftly plonked her sizeable handbag on the seat, shooting him an ‘ _I dare you’_ kind of glare.

 

Eddie certainly did not dare.

 

“Hey, Kid, Sit down, would’cha? I need to get this puppy back on the road!” the driver hollered, making Eddie jump.

 

Face warm with embarrassment, Eddie slid gingerly into the closest empty seat, praying to a God he didn’t believe in that the person he’d end up sat next to wasn’t a total nightmare.

 

 

* * *

 

When Eddie got the phone call to tell him that his mother had passed away he didn’t cry. He didn’t do much of anything. His auntie had rung him, cry-screamed down the phone until Eddie couldn’t distinguish between her words. She’d told him that his mother had died of a broken heart, that Eddie’s ‘rebellion’ had shattered her heart into a million tiny pieces, and she’d never recovered from her ‘abandonment’. Abandonment, his auntie said. _Betrayal._ Eddie hadn’t said anything, just a few non-committal ‘mhmm’s’ when asked if he intended on coming to the funeral. _God knows you owe her that, at least,_ he’d been told.

 

Eddie wasn’t so sure.

 

When he’d finally hung up the phone, he couldn’t move. Just sat and stared at the ceiling, dust dancing in the rays of light seeping through the cracks in the blind.

 

It needed replacing.

 

The thought ambled through Eddie’s mind like it was any other Sunday, like he hadn’t just been told his mother died. The blind needed replacing. Eddie stood up and decided that he was going to home depot to replace the damn blind.

 

Bill was sat on the couch, watching one of his stupid cartoons. Eddie had told him that he was going to home depot to buy a blind to replace his because his is full of cracks. Bill had just nodded noncommittedly, joint balanced between his fingers idly.

 

‘Oh, and my mother’s dead, do you need anything from the supermarket on my way home?’

 

That’s how he’d broken the news of his mother’s death to Bill. Bill, who’d met Sonia. Bill, who let Eddie cry on his chest when he told his mother he was gay and she’d printed of reams of paper.

 

**_How to exorcise the homosexuality from your loved one_ **

****

**_Gay Conversion Camps and Why They’re Necessary_ **

****

**_Pray the Gay Away in 10 Easy Steps_ **

****

Eddie had thrown them all in the trash in a fit of pure, unadulterated rage.

 

Bill had just held him tight.

 

Before Eddie could unlock the door to their apartment, Bill had enveloped him in the same kind of hug. An ‘ _I’ve got you, and I’ll always have you’_ hug. A Bill Denbrough specialty. Eddie had cried then, heaving sobs that ripped straight from the pit of his stomach. He’d gasped and wailed and sobbed into Bill’s shoulder.

 

Bill just held him tight.

 

* * *

 

Eddie slid into the closest empty seat, and hoped that whoever he ended up sat next to wasn’t a total nightmare. The person in the window seat next to him turned out to be a teenage girl, Eddie guessed she couldn’t be older than 18. She was reading a book, and shot a friendly but guarded smile at him when he sat down. He returned the smile. She continued to read her book, and Eddie intended to leave her alone. He wasn’t feeling particularly sociable.

 

It was a 50 hour journey to Maine, and it’d be spent on this same bus. They’d stop several times to swap drivers, but no stop would be over an hour. He wouldn’t have time to properly stretch his legs until he landed in miserable Maine. At least the seats were comfy. Eddie fished his headphones out of his bag, huge padded over-the-head headphones that suspended in music with no interruptions from the outside world. Bill had bought them for his birthday last year. They were the most precious thing Eddie owned and he guarded them with his life. He scrolled through Spotify, before settling on Hozier. The dulcet Irish tones filtered through the padding of the headphones, a soothing panacea to Eddie’s aching brain.

 

 He hadn’t been back to Maine for years. He hadn’t been back since he’d told his mother that he had a boyfriend, and this boyfriend wasn’t just a phase, it was serious. Serious business. Only, it wasn’t really. They’d broken up a month later and Eddie had howled almost continuously for several days before he’d snapped out of it quicker than he’d expected. He’d woken up one day and the boy-shaped pit in his stomach was gone. Healed, cured, whatever.

 

His mother, try as she might, never quite managed to pray Eddie’s gay away. And boy, did she try. The monthly voicemail was probably the thing he’d miss the most about her. Never let anyone say that Sonia Kaspbrak was anything but _persistent._ Now the only thing Eddie had left of his mother was the folder of voicemails he had saved on his phone. He never listened to them, but he always saved them. For a rainy day, he’d always told himself. Now these were the only thing he had left. Voicemails begging him to phone her, pleading with him to give up the silly games he was playing and just _come home, Eddie-bear!_ It made the acid in his stomach rise up his oesophagus.  It burned. He probably deserved it.

 

Eddie stewed in thought for about an hour, watching trees and fields and electrical pylons fly past the window. The girl he was sat next to was still reading. Eddie glanced at the seats in front of him, and what he saw forced him to jerk his head back in a double-take. A pair of bespectacled eyes were watching him intently. Bright red frames and hazel eyes peering at him from the gap between the seats. Eddie caught their gaze, before looking at the floor.

 

He tried to lose himself in the music, tried to think about the funeral arrangements and how he’d navigate talking to his various family members who loathed the air he breathed without combusting into wretched pieces, but he kept glancing back at gap between the seats, and every time he did, without fail, he’d find himself catching the gaze of those hazel eyes. Eddie tears his eyes away for a fourth time, pointedly staring out of the window, watching the world fly by. It looks like a painting, all running oils and smudged lines. Reds and oranges, the yellow glare of the sun. Everything was dying around him, the leaves and the grass and the plants and his mother. Eddie decided that he hated fall.

 

Thirty minutes later, and the person in the seats in front of him was still staring. The girl next to him was still reading. Eddie wondered how she wasn’t feeling car sick. He almost asked her, before he caught himself.

 

Eventually, in a moment of sheer madness, or perhaps it was sheer boredness, Eddie shot a tentative smile in the direction of the hazel eyes. The eyes disappear, but a head pokes over the top of the seat instead. The eyes belong to a man, a man that had to be a few years older than Eddie. 30 perhaps? Maybe 31. He had a mane of unruly hair framing his face, and the strands would probably be falling into his eyes if they weren’t protected by those round red frames. His face was kind. The sort of kind openness that made Eddie nervous. He watches the guys mouth move, before he realizes that he’s being spoken to. Eddie cocks his head and mouths ‘ _what’_. The guy reaches through the gap and gently slides Eddie’s headphones off his head, pushing them back so they sit snugly around his neck.

 

‘Hey, what the hell?’ Eddie responds instinctively, pulling his arms protectively around his chest. The smile doesn’t fall of the guy’s face. It gets bigger.

 

‘Well how else was I supposed to stop you from ignoring me?’

 

He had a scratchy voice. It sounded like crunching leaves and the needle skipping on the record player.

 

‘Uh –‘ Eddie replied, brain refusing to co-operate with his mouth. He couldn’t speak, he could only stare.

 

‘That’s okay! I can do enough talking for the both of us. You on this thing for the long haul?’

 

‘Um, I’m going to Maine. I don’t know where this bus terminates but – I guess fifty hours counts as the long haul?’

 

The hazel eyes dance behind the glasses. Eddie wonders if it’s because the sun is shining directly on the guys face, or if the guy has stars embedded in his retina. 

 

‘No way! Me too! I’m going home, visit the folks, grace them with the presence of their first born and therefore, by default, favourite son. I mean – I’m their only son, but they have my sister at home so I’m going home to provide some _adult conversation,_ and no, not in that way, you reprobate’

 

Eddie blinked.

 

‘You talk a lot’ was all he said, eyebrow quirked.

 

‘Ah, my dear, you have no idea. The friends call me Trashmouth, rude really, but what can ya do. You can call me Richie. What can I call you, or shall I just stick with guy-with-the-headphones?’

 

‘Jesus’ Eddie laughs, shaking his head, ‘are you this full on with every guy you meet on a bus or am I just that unfortunate?’

 

Richie shot him a small, soft smile.

 

‘Nah, I don’t make a habit of talking to strangers. I just thought you looked like you needed a friend’

 

‘Eddie’

 

‘Huh?’

 

‘My name is Eddie’

 

‘Gotcha’

 

Eddie didn’t know how to reply, so shot Richie another small smile and watched the trees fly past the window again.

 

‘Why are you going back to Maine, Spaghetti?’

 

‘Oh my God. No. You’re not calling me that, what are you, twelve? And – It’s sort of personal’

 

Richie hummed, clearly not content with his answer, but Eddie was relieved when he didn’t push it any further.

‘Do you have any siblings?’

 

‘So we’re really going to do this whole small talk thing, then?’ Eddie replied, the ghost of amusement lacing his words.

 

‘Well, we ain’t got anything better to do, have we? I mean, I guess we could play I spy or something, but I think we might be a bit to intellectual for that’

 

‘No, no siblings. Just me and my moth–‘

 

Eddie stops. He nearly chokes on the words that try and force their way back down his esophagus.

 

‘No’ he continues, ‘just me’.

 

Richie stares at him, eyes flicking back and forth between Eddie’s eyes, searching for an answer that Eddie refuses to give him. Thankfully, he doesn’t push.

 

They chat a bit for the next twenty minutes, mostly small talk about the weather and how boring Maine is, and how they’d apparently gone to the same school but Richie was two grades above Eddie so that’s probably why they’d never seen each other around. Richie lived in the next town over from Eddie, but he’d travelled into Derry for school. Richie spoke with his hands, gesticulating wildly when he spoke. Eddie watched his hands dance, intricate patterns melting into the stale air of the bus.

 

Soon enough, Eddie felt the tell-tale signs of travel sickness begin pressing at his stomach, constricting his gut angrily. He groaned, clutching at his belly with his hands. Richie’s face shifts from amusement – he was telling a story about when he’d fallen out of a tree trying to rescue a squirrel before he knew that squirrels were actually very good at climbing – to concern in less time than it took Eddie to blink.

 

‘Are you okay, Eds?’

 

‘Don’t call me that – and not really, I get pretty bad travel sickness’

 

‘Is there anything I can do?’

 

Eddie shook his head.

 

‘Unfortunately not. I normally sit up the front when I have to travel but there weren’t any seats. I’m sort of hoping I can move to a window seat when we stop’

 

‘Do you want to come and sit in my seat? You can sit by the window? I promise I won’t bite _unless you ask me to’_ Richie leered. Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes.

 

‘Uhhhh, no thanks, I might get rabies’

 

‘Rude. But no, seriously. Come sit? I don’t want you to feel shitty. It’s a long ass drive to Maine and I don’t wanna have to smell your vom’

 

Eddie hesitated, but only briefly.

 

‘Okay’

 

* * *

 

He sat down next to Richie, and nothing between them changes apart from the fact that they’re closer. Eddie can smell cheap, musky cologne, cigarettes and something that smells like apple pie. He guesses it’s what Richie smells like. Richie bounces his leg when he talks, and picks at the skin on his fingers when he’s listening. Before long, they fall into a comfortable silence, and Eddie puts his headphones back on. He selects the same Hozier album from before, and sinks into the melodies.

 

He must have fallen asleep, because before he knows it, his eyes are opening and his neck is protesting loudly. He feels groggy, like someone had stuffed cotton wool in his head and given it a good shake. His neck is cricked at a weird angle, and his headphones are digging into his scalp. He realizes, once the haze before his eyes has melted away, that his neck is cricked painfully because he is slumped on Richie’s shoulder. He nearly jolts upright, before he realizes that the gentle pressure on his head isn’t just coming from his headphones. Richie is resting his head on top of his, face turned slightly into his hair. Eddie doesn’t move, and he tries not to breathe too loudly, focusing on keeping his breaths flowing in and out of his noise in gentle little puffs. He feels Richie breathe in slowly, almost as if he was inhaling the scent of his hair. He must go rigid at some point, because he feels Richie still, before a voice tentatively asks

 

‘Eds? You awake?’

 

Eddie doesn’t say anything.

 

‘I know you’re awake, Eddie’

 

Eddie shifts, then, rubbing his neck and looking up at Richie with hooded eyes. He’s embarrassed, and he can feel his cheeks flush.

 

‘I’m sorry,  I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you’

 

Eddie watches Richie’s face bloom, a soft flush diffusing across his skin.

 

‘It’s fine, you gave me a headrest so it’s all good – plus, you’re really cute when you sleep’

 

Eddie ducks his head, face burning. Eddie doesn’t say anything in response, and the air between them buzzes with a static electricity that wasn’t there before. It makes Eddie nervous. He shifts, pressing into the wall of the bus, and he rests his cheek on the window. It’s cool – the coldness fighting with the hot skin of his cheek. The bus rattles along the road, cars scurrying by like ants, and Eddie thinks about his mom.

 

* * *

 

‘D’ya wanna play never have I ever?’ Richie’s scratchy voice shocks Eddie out of his introspection with a jolt.

 

‘One, we are not fifteen, two, isn’t that a game you’re supposed to play with more than two people, and three, we aren’t drunk’

 

‘It’s not just a drinking game!’ Richie insists.

 

Eddie grimances.

 

‘Isn’t it a bit … you know’

 

‘I do not know’

 

‘Yes you do, don’t be a dick’

 

‘Richie Tozier may be many things, but he is not a mind reader, spaghetti head’

 

‘isn’t it a bit … dirty?’

 

Richie throws his head back, laughter falling from his mouth in waves. Eddie tried not to stare at the clean lines of his throat.

‘Oh my sweet summer child. I’ll start. Never have I ever’ Richie pauses for what Eddie imagines is dramatic effect, ‘gone skinny dipping?’

 

‘What are we supposed to do if we have done it? We don’t have anything to drink’

 

Richie pauses, before shifting in his seat to dig something out of his pocket.

 

‘I have these gummy worms? I mean, they’re a bit old and melty or whatever, but we could eat one of these? Maybe?’

 

Richie looks so much the excited puppy that Eddie can’t bring himself to refuse. He sticks his hand in the packet, grabs a gummy, and shoves it in his mouth.

 

‘Well aren’t you the enigma, Eds. Didn’t peg you for the skinny dipping type’ Richie says around a gummy of his own.

 

Eddie waggles his eyebrows at him, suggestively. Richie’s face glows with the slightest hint of scarlet.

 

‘Okay, my turn. Never have I ever … cheated on a test’ Eddie asks.

 

Richie grabs four worms.

 

‘Seriously?!’

 

‘Mm-hmm’

 

‘You’re such a reprobate’ Eddie responds, incredulous.

‘Okay, s’getti. This one might get you a little hot under the collar, but… never have I ever had anal sex’

 

Eddie snorts, laughing before he can catch himself and school himself into something akin to outrage.

 

‘Something to share, Eddie?’ Richie asks, smirking.

 

‘uh… yeah’

 

‘Yeah as in, something to share? Or yeah as in, you’ve done it in the butt’

 

‘You’re honestly vile, you know’

 

‘You haven’t answered the question yet’

 

‘I mean yes, I have. It’s the only kind of sex I’ve had’

 

‘KNEW IT’ Richie crows, fist pumping the air.

 

‘…What just happened’ Eddie asks, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

 

‘I was trying to work out which way you swing’

 

Eddie pauses, mouth open in horror.

 

‘So this was all just a very elaborate, and quite frankly ridiculous, way of trying to find out if I like men?’

 

Richie winks at him.

 

‘I mean, it worked didn’t it?’

 

Eddie pauses, unsure of how to respond.

 

‘I guess it did’ he replies, a laugh spilling out of his mouth, despite his best efforts.

 

Richie winks at him again.

 

* * *

 

Suddenly, the bus lurched forward with a great metallic whine. Eddie jolts out of his hazy daydream, heart hammering at his rib cage, desperate to break free.

 

‘Hey bud, it’s all good’ Richie murmurs, grabbing at Eddie’s hand and rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand.

 

It tickled, like a tiny furry caterpillar was walking on his hand. Eddie’s heart was still hammering in his chest, but his breathing slowed. Richie looked vaguely concerned, but held Eddie’s gaze with a pleasant smile. Eddie tried to smile back at him, but all he could manage was something more accurately described as a grimace. An odd smell started filtering through the bus from where the engine was located in the back. It smelt like burning rubber. The ominous sound of metal scraping against metal filled the cabin.

 

‘Rich, Rich what the fuck is that?’ Eddie asked, shaking Richie’s arm slightly.

 

‘I’m not sure, Spaghetti. I’m sure it’s nothing, okay?’ Richie replied, but his voice wobbled slightly, a stark contrast to his cool exterior.

 

The bus spat out one last wounded howl, sailing into a layby before grinding to a halt. The driver shot an apologetic smile down the gangway, before hopping out, presumably to check what was causing the ominous scraping sound. He reappeared about three minutes later, and ushered everyone off the bus, explaining that the engine had severely overheated, and there was no way they’d be able to continue.

 

‘It’s safer for you all to wait off the bus, just in case. Insurance doesn’t cover me when the engine is malfunctioning if you’re all still sat on it, ya see. Sorry, folks!’

 

Eddie shot off the bus like a bat out of hell, eager to put as much distance between him and the thing that could potentially end his life in a blaze of metal. Richie followed him off, Eddie’s backpack slung over his shoulder, and his own coat tied around his waist. They’d broken down on a stretch of road opposite a motel and a sleazy looking diner. A car whizzed past, and Eddie, who had been standing far too close to the road, squawked with fright as he leapt back, lest his feet get squashed. Richie had grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking Eddie backwards so he fell without grace against Richie’s chest.

 

‘Jesus Christ, Eddie’ Richie huffed, his hand now flat against Eddie’s waist.

 

‘Sorry’ Eddie mumbled, shifting slightly away from the warmth of Richie’s body. Richie watched him idly as Eddie ran his hands up and down his bare arms in a futile attempt to stop the blood freezing in his veins.

 

‘D’ya want my coat?’ Richie asked softly, already untying the thick padded jacket from around his waist. It looked incredibly warm.

 

‘Normally I’d try and refuse out of social nicety, but I’m too freezing to pretend I don’t want your jacket’ Eddie confessed, holding out his arms.

 

Instead of simply passing Eddie the jacket, Richie held it out, an unspoken instruction. Eddie turned around, backing into the jacket, slotting his arms into the sleeves. Eddie found himself swimming in cigarette smoke and sandalwood. Richie had this indulgent smirk on his face, and Eddie wanted to scrub it off with his hands.

 

‘Whatcha lookin’ at?’ he asked, sticking his tongue out. Richie made him feel like a teenager, all juvenile humour and school-yard flirting. Pig tail pulling and ‘ _I have a friend who likes you’._

 

‘You’ Richie answered honestly, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his baggy jeans.

 

Eddie hadn’t expected such honesty, he’d expected Richie to make a joke, to play the game. Say something about my mother, go on, I dare you. Be mean, say something rude. Be a teenager with me. But he didn’t. Richie wasn’t playing Eddie’s game.

 

‘Oh’ was all Eddie could spit out. A thick, syrupy word that dipped of his tongue like honey.

 

The driver clapped his hands together, signaling to the passengers that he had an announcement about the state of the bus. Eddie held his breath, hoping for the best but expecting to be told that the bus was imminently about to explode. 

 

The driver announced that whilst the bus wasn’t going to catch fire, and whilst the engine was cooling down, it wasn’t cooling down quick enough to start the journey back up any time soon, so after calling the head office, the decision has been made that all passengers will stay in comped rooms at the motel opposite where the bus had broken down. The rest of the passengers grumbled a bit, placated by the promise of free accommodation and a chance to escape the sweaty confines of the bus.  A replacement bus would arrive at the motel at 8am the next day so they could continue on their journey.

 

Eddie’s brain filtered out the rest of the conversation, the words ‘ _motel bed’_ buzzing angrily around his brain like angry hornets.

 

_motel bed motel bed motel bed motel bed_

‘I can’t’ Eddie whispered involuntarily.

 

‘Are you okay, Eddie?’ Richie whispered, eyes searching Eddie’s face for any indication of what might be wrong.

 

‘Motel bed – I can’t… I can’t sleep on that mattress, I can’t – I don’t know who has been in there – Richie, I _can’t’_ Eddie wailed, scrunching his hands into fists repeatedly.

 

He needed his inhaler. The inhaler he’d thrown away almost immediately after his mother had died. It was long gone. He needed it desperately.

 

‘Eddie? Eddie, breathe with me okay? You’re fine, you’re going to be fine – one, two, three, that’s it, keep breathing, Spaghetti’

 

‘Don’t fucking _call me that’_ Eddie spat, no malice behind his words. His breathing was becoming less erratic, and he tried to copy Richie’s slow, measured puffs of air.

 

The wooly panic leaked slowly out of his ears.

 

* * *

 

Eddie blindly followed Richie, who follows the rest of the passengers, to the reception of the small motel where they all get checked in. A benevolent deity must be shining down on him because Eddie’s room is right next to Richie’s. They walk up the rickety staircase leading to the rooms, Eddie glues his arms to his sides, trying to avoid touching anything. Richie walks behind him, humming a tuneless song.

 

His skin itches.

 

They unlock their respective doors, and after watching Richie disappear into his own room, Eddie gingerly steps over the threshold to his room. It’s fine. The air smells like bleach, and the room is bright and the bed is made and there’s a small chair in the corner of the room. It’s fine. Eddie knows it’s fine, but he still fishes the small bottle of antibacterial hand gel out of his pocket, applying liberal squirts to his palms. He places his backpack on the bed, and sits on the very edge. The mattress is firm underneath him, and it doesn’t immediately burn his skin on contact, so Eddie relaxes a little bit more. Eventually, he finds himself able to lie backwards on the sheet.

 

It smells like fresh cotton.

 

Obsessive cleanliness. Another thing for which he has his mother to thank. Eddie closes his eyes and tries to remember the brief but very vivid moments when his mother made his heart sing with adoration. The time when he was three and they went to the park to feed the ducks, and she’d chased him around the pond quacking. The time when he was five and they’d gone on a drive to the supermarket and she’d sung Neil Diamond songs until she was out of breath and laughing. There weren’t many memories like that, but those that did exist were illuminated in technicolour. Eddie hoped he’d hold onto these for the rest of his life.

 

A soft knock at his door startled him out of his day dream, and he padded over to the door, swinging it open. It was Richie.

 

‘Hey ‘sgetti. I’m kinda fuckin’ starving, d’ya fancy checking out that grotty diner? I reckon they’ll do amazing fries’

 

‘Why d’ya reckon that?’

 

‘Because they look like they don’t clean out their grease traps and the best fries are made in three week old grease’

 

Eddie gagged – half genuine, half pantomime for Richie’s benefit.

 

‘So you comin’ or what? My treat!’ Richie continued, beaming at Eddie in all of his megawatt glory.

 

‘Whatever, but I’m definitely not ordering the damn fries’ Eddie snorted, pulling his door closed behind him.

 

* * *

 

They sit together at a small, rickety table. A woman called Joan serves them, and she reminds Eddie of the kind of woman that played the grandmother in those saccharine hallmark Christmas movies. She called him ‘sweetie’, and spoke with a soft, southern drawl. Richie flirted with her, calling her ‘darlin’’ and sending winks her way like they were currency and he was paying a tip.

 

‘So, tell me, ‘sketti head, whatcha do for a living?’

 

‘Jumping straight back into the small talk, I see. I  thought we’d moved beyond this point’ Eddie laughs.

 

‘Well, I’ve gotta get to know what my future husband’s career is, dontcha think?’

 

Eddie snorts his orange juice out of his nose, and Richie howls with laughter.

 

‘Jesus Christ, Eddie’ Richie spluttered, dabbing at the table with a napkin.

 

‘I’m a nurse’ Eddie managed to say once he’s composed himself, still giggling at the puddle of orange liquid on the table.

 

‘No shit! Are you into role play, the whole doctors and nurses schtick? Or does that just remind you of work and leave you… y’know… _unprepared_ ’ Richie asks, sending an exaggerated wink Eddie’s way.

 

‘I’m a paedeatric nurse, you degenerate. I work with the oncology department, so it’s pretty tough sometimes. I’ve had kids die in my arms, which absolutely fucking sucks. But, watching them ring that bell to indicate they’re cancer free? Best fucking drug around, Rich. Better than meth’

 

‘Have you ever tried meth, Eddie?’

 

‘No, but that’s not the point’ Eddie huffs, raising his eyebrow pointedly at Richie.

 

‘I’m just messin’ with ya, sugar. It’s cute cute cute that you work with the kiddies, Eds, really. It’s fucking amazing, actually’

 

Eddie rolls his eyes indulgently, resting his chin in his hand. His elbow hurts a bit where its pressing into the table, but he doesn’t mind.

 

‘What about you? What job have you tricked someone into hiring you to do?’

 

‘You’re such a rude Spaghetti, Eddie. I’m a Radio DJ. Put this motormouth to good use!’

 

‘I should have absolutely guessed that you talked for a living, what station?’

 

‘184.5. I’m on from 9-1. Long ass slot but there is honestly nothing I’d rather do’ Richie gushes, eyes bright.

 

Eddie has never heard of that station, but he makes a mental note to programme it in his car when he gets home.

 

Joan wanders back over, carrying a tray. She places their food down, before slapping a coke float down on the table. There were two straws, and Joan refused Eddie’s attempts to pay for it with a wink and an ‘ _enjoy boys’._

 

Before he could take a sip of the quickly melting treat, or eat a handful of onion rings, Eddie’s phone began buzzing. Bill’s name flashed on the screen, along with the picture of Eddie sitting on Bill’s shoulders that he’d assigned as Bill’s contact picture. Eddie was smiling so wide his face looked like it might split in half. Bill was clinging to the thighs wrapped around his neck, his eyes were squeezed shut and he was laughing at something Stan was saying. Stan took the picture. Eddie missed Stan so much his stomach hurt.

 

‘Sorry, Rich, I’ve gotta take this, Bill is probably wondering why I haven’t rang him yet I’m just gonna’, Eddie gestured at the door, before sliding the arrow across his screen to answer the call as he walked out into the parking lot.

 

‘Heya, Bill’

 

‘Hey, Eddie. How’s the journey going?’

 

‘Oh my god – so you’ll never guess what, the bus broke down, right? It was making some horrifying like, grinding noise? I honestly thought it was going to explode and I’d be in pieces all over the freeway’

 

‘Fuck! I’m assuming you didn’t get blown to smithereens?’

 

Eddie snorted.

 

‘Nah, not quite Big Bill. Besides, I’ve made a friend so I’m not too bored’

 

‘Oh? A Friend?’

 

‘Yeah, his name is Richie. He lives in Clearham if you can believe it! Well, I mean his parents do, and he’s pretty funny, actually. I mean, he’s a moron but he’s alright I guess. I fell asleep on his shoulder and I might have drooled on him a bit but he didn’t say anything if I did’

 

‘Hmmm’

 

‘What?’

 

‘Nothing’

 

‘Bill, what?’

 

‘You sound weirdly smitten about someone you’ve only just met’

 

Eddie rolled his eyes so hard he probably popped several blood vessels.

 

‘Leave me alone, Denbrough, I’m hardly fucking smitten’

 

‘I’m jus’ sayin’ Eddie. Are you still waiting for the bus to be fixed?’

 

‘Nah, they’re putting us up in some skeezy motel for the night, we’ll be back on the road tomorrow’

 

Eddie’s phone started buzzing in his hands again, and when he pulled it away from his face to glance at the caller ID, his stomach dropped to his feet.

 

‘Shit, Bill, its Nancy’

 

‘Ah, Sorry Eds, d’ya wanna ring me back?’

 

‘Yes please’

 

‘Love ya, kid’

 

‘Love you too’

 

Eddie heard Bill disconnect the call, and, holding his breath, he slid the arrow across his screen for the second time.

 

‘Edward Kaspbrak, why haven’t you arrived yet?’

 

‘Hello to you too, Auntie Nancy’

 

‘Well?’

 

‘I told you, the bus won’t be getting into Maine for hours yet, _days,_ Nancy. The bus broke down actually, so I’m stuck in –‘ Eddie glanced around. He had no idea where he was. ‘I don’t know _where_ I am, actually’. A chuckle forced its way out of his mouth, an aborted attempt at lightening the mood.

 

‘Your mother would be so ashamed of you, Edward. You can’t even be here on time to help with the pre-funeral arrangements. God rest her soul, Sonia tried so _hard_ with you–‘

 

Eddie held the phone away from his ear, and the rest of Nancy’s torrent of emotional abuse seeped out of his phone like smoke, rising towards the stars. Eddie does something that is potentially childish, and will almost definitely mean he gets an even worse telling off when he does finally land in Maine. He hangs up the phone. He shoves the finally silent iPhone in his pocket.

 

The stars glitter above his head, and Eddie Kaspbrak sits on the steps of a diner in a strange town he can’t name, and thinks about his mom. Eddie loved his mom. Hell, he loves his mom. He always loved her. Stan always joked that it was Stockholm syndrome, and really, Eddie found that joke hilarious. Stan’s biting wit belay a genuine concern and empathy, so Eddie got it. Really, it was a funny joke. Right now, though, Eddie knows it’s not true. It wasn’t Stockholm syndrome or anything equally as toxic and dramatic. Eddie is tired and upset, he’s sad and achy and he wants to sleep in his own bed. Bizarrely, he doesn’t think of his bed in his apartment in Florida, he thinks of his bed at his mom’s house in Maine. The tiny twin bed with the rickety bed posts and the sky blue bedding. The bed in the room that always smelt like antibacterial carpet cleaner. The bed where Eddie had spent most of his childhood, curled up reading book after book after book. The bed where he’d had sleepovers with Stan and Bill and they’d laughed into the night about something asinine and ridiculous and, at that moment, something that was the funniest thing in the entire universe. Eddie missed his bed and, damnit, he missed his mom.

 

The door to the diner swung open, and Eddie watched a pair of beaten up Dr Marten boots step out.

 

‘I was beginning to think you’d run off and stood me up, Eddie Spaghetti’

 

Eddie burst into tears. 

 

Richie crouches next to him, comforting hand on his back.

 

‘Eddie? What’s wrong?’ Richie asks in such a tiny, concerned voice it just makes Eddie cry harder.

 

Richie looks alarmed for all of three seconds, before he tentatively pulls Eddie into his arms. Richie’s arms are long and circle around him easily. Eddie doesn’t hug back, his arms stay hanging limp at his side, but he rests his head on Richie’s shoulder and cries such great heaving sobs that he feels like he’s drowning. Richie is murmuring sweet nothings in his ear, comforting things Eddie can barely hear over his own wheezy breaths. They sit like that for a while, until Eddie sighs and announces that he wants to go to bed. He expects Richie to make some terrible joke about joining him, but he doesn’t. He just gives Eddie’s shoulders one more squeeze before letting go and standing up. He holds out his hand for Eddie to take, which he does, and Richie pulls him to his feet.

 

‘C’mon, Eddie Spaghetti, let’s get you to bed’

 

Eddie huffs out a wet sounding laugh, ‘Don’t call me that’

 

‘Whatever you say, cutie’ Richie winks at him. Eddie wants to catch that wink and keep it in a jar on his desk.

 

They walk slowly back across the road, and climb the rickety stairs up to their rooms. Richie walks Eddie to his door. They stand huddled together, practically breathing the same air. Richie’s eyes keep flitting from Eddie’s eyes to his mouth, and Eddie is so sure that Richie is going to kiss him, and he’s equally as sure that he’ll kiss him back. But Richie doesn’t kiss him. Richie pulls Eddie into another hug, but this time it’s different. This hug isn’t comforting, this hug is laced with a sort of promise, a promise that Eddie can’t decode right now.

 

‘See you tomorrow, Eddie’ Richie whispers in his ear, before letting Eddie go, and turning on his heel. Eddie watches him walk the four steps to the door of his room, before he disappears behind the dark wooden door.

 

Eddie blinks, and tries to catch his breath. He fumbles with the lock to his door, and lets himself back into the room. He pulls off his shoes, before flopping backwards onto the bed.

 

* * *

 

Eddie sits on the bed, legs crossed at the ankles, and watches some stupid reality TV show, mind floating in and out of various daydreams, before he remembers Bill. He presses 1 on his speed dial, and Bill picks up on the third ring.

 

‘Are you okay Eddie?’ Bill gets out before Eddie has a chance to say anything.

 

‘Not really’ Eddie whispers.

 

Eddie tells Bill all about what his Aunt had said to him, about how his mom used to sing to him, about how he’d cried on Richie’s shoulders, and by the time he’d finished talking he’s crying again. Fat, angry tears are swimming down his face and diving off his chin.

 

Bill sounds absolutely wounded, his own voice wet with sorrow. Eddie realizes that this is the first time that Bill can’t run to Eddie’s defense. Eddie tries to reassure him, but Bill being so protective and so fiercely loyal in that trademark Denbrough way just makes him cry harder. Bill cries too, now. Tiny little gasps fighting Eddie’s loud breathy sobs.

 

There’s a firm knock at the door, and Eddie jumps out of his skin.

 

He panics internally for five seconds, with Bill is saying something he can’t hear directly in his ear, before he pads over to the door to look through the peep hole.

 

It’s Richie. Of course its Richie. It was always going to be Richie.

 

Eddie releases the breath he was holding, and unbolts the door.

 

‘Hi Richie’ he says in a small, gulpy voice. Richie looks concerned. He hears Bill make a weird noise on the end of the phone, but he ignores it.

 

‘I heard you crying again and I wasn’t going to come and harass you but I just  – I couldn’t leave you in here by yourself when it sounds like your heart is literally breaking, but – you’re on the phone shall I – I’ll go? Sorry?’ Richie garbles, stumbling over his words.

 

Eddie smiles sadly at him, before gesturing at his room, an unspoken invitation for Richie to enter. Richie does so, slipping past Eddie.

 

‘I’m okay Bill, Richie’s here, so I’m okay now I promise. I’ll ring you again later? Love you’, Eddie hangs up before Bill can answer properly.

 

If he sees Richie’s chest puff slightly upon hearing that Eddie’s okay because he’s here, Eddie doesn’t say anything.

 

Eddie sits on the bed opposite Richie, and leans back slightly so their backs are nearly touching.

 

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Richie presses gently, looking at Eddie with open, pleading eyes.

 

‘Oh Richie’ Eddie groans, scrubbing his hands over his eyes, trying to get rid of all the remaining moisture, ‘It’s a very long story’

 

 ‘Hey’, Richie reaches around, and takes one of Eddie’s hands in his. Richie’s hands are huge, and totally engulf Eddie’s.

 

‘We’ve got all night, Eds’

 

Eddie sighs.

 

‘Don’t say anything until I’ve finished, okay? It’s kinda hard for me to talk about. My childhood was … rough. My dad died when I was twelve, and I loved him more than I’ve ever loved anything before or since, so I took it pretty badly. My mom took it worse, though. Dad was a contractor, he like, went to different buildings to remove the asbestos. I guess he didn’t wear the proper mask or whatever because he died from lung cancer. Little bits of asbestos fiber lodged themselves in his lungs, I guess. Mom went a bit… weird after that. Obsessive about health and stuff. She made me take all these damn pills for diseases I didn’t have. I was taking twelve pills a day at one point. The real kicker, though, was that none of the pills were actually real. Sugar pills, or sum’thin. I dunno. I confronted her about it when I was nineteen but she just totally shut down about it. I never really tried talking to her about it again. I came out to her when I was twenty four, just out of school, and she absolutely lost her shit with me. She – she called me all these names, right? So I just… left. I left and moved to Florida with Bill. I never saw her in person again. That was over four years ago. My auntie said she’d died of a broken heart, but that’s impossible right? I can’t have actually killed her? Oh my God, Richie – I … did I, I’m the reason – I killed her, I –‘

 

The realization that he may have killed his mother causes Eddie’s lungs to constrict. He can’t breathe. He begins hyperventilating, breaths coming out in short, sharp puffs that burn the inside of his lungs as they force their way out of his nose. Richie catches him in a hug for the third time, but this one is different again – this one is stronger, he’s squeezing Eddie tight, like he’s trying to hold all the pieces together, like Eddie’s glass bones might shatter if he let go. He kisses the side of Eddie’s face, tiny bird pecks.

 

He pulls back, looking up at Richie with glassy, tear-hazed eyes. Richie is looking down at him, his eyes wet and sparkling. Before he can register what he’s doing, he’s leaning up and pressing his mouth messily to Richie’s. Their lips slide awkwardly, slippery from spit and sadness. Richie kisses Eddie back, but barely, just the ghost of a kiss.Eddie pulls back suddenly, searching Richie’s face for signs of disgust. What he finds is Richie staring at him like he hung the moon, and painted the stars in the sky.

 

‘Eds…’ Richie mutters warningly, ‘you’re emotional, you’re upset, we shouldn’t – you don’t know what you’re doing’

 

‘I know exactly what I’m doing’ Eddie replies, and kisses Richie again.

 

Richie cradles Eddie’s face in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over Eddie’s jaw. His hands are soft. Eddie falls backwards, tugging Richie with him. They lie facing each other, one of Richie’s arms wedged awkwardly under Eddie’s torso, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Eddie hitches his leg up over Richie’s hips, and opens his mouth, tongue dancing into Richie’s mouth. Richie hauls his arm from underneath Eddie and flips them over in one smooth move, so he’s hovering over Eddie. Eddie looks up at him. His glasses are crooked and his face is flushed and there’s spit on his lips and he’s panting and he’s _beautiful._ Eddie darts his hand up Richie’s back, barely there touches under the soft material of his shirt. He can feel the knotted muscles working under Richie’s skin. 

 

‘I saw you get on the bus and you looked to confused and panicked and I couldn’t take my eyes off you, fuckin’ gorgeous, Eddie’

 

Eddie doesn’t say anything in response, and grabs the back of Richie’s neck, and pulls him down for another bruising kiss. They kiss for what feels like forever, and Eddie’s brain melts into a puddle of sweet smoky _Richie Richie Richie,_ but it’s over. Richie pulls away, gasping against Eddie’s neck.

 

‘We – We can’t, Eddie. We really _really_ shouldn’t. Not tonight’

 

‘I know’ Eddie huffs sadly.

 

‘Do you want me to … stay?’ Richie asks, voice field-mouse small.

 

 ‘Yes’ is Eddie’s immediate response, ‘Don’t leave me’

 

He immediately feels ridiculous, asking, nay _begging_ someone he’s known for less than 24 hours to stay with him in the sad little motel room.

 

Richie rolls onto his side, and pulls Eddie flush against his chest.

 

‘I never could’

 

They don’t bother getting undressed. They simply shimmy their way under the thin covers, Richie pulling Eddie flush against his chest. Richie falls asleep first, and Eddie lies awake for hours, listening to the rhythmic puffs of Richie’s breath against his ear.

 

* * *

 

He’s still there when Eddie wakes up. They’re tangled in the sheets, still fully dressed, legs intertwined. Eddie can’t help but feel shocked – surprised that Richie hadn’t slipped out of his room under the cover of darkness. He’s still here, though, snoring into the motel room pillow.

Eddie dislodges Richie’s arm from where it’s hooked around his waist, and sits up. He glances at the clock ticking on the wall.

 

‘Shit! Shit, Richie, Rich, wake up’ Eddie warned, shaking Richie’s shoulder roughly.

 

‘Huh, Wazzit? Eds?’ Richie mumbles, rolling onto his back and rubbing at his eyes, as if trying to claw the sleepiness from them with his fingers.

 

Eddie practically throws himself out of bed, scrambling around the room.

 

‘The bus leaves in fifteen minutes, Richie, get your ass in gear’

 

Richie doesn’t reply with words, just groans loudly and melodramatically, before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up with a yawn.

 

They both fuss around the room, shoving the few meagre belongings Eddie had bothered to unpack haphazardly back in his suitcase before Richie disappears back into his room to collect his things. Eddie meets him in the hallway, and they both lock their respective doors in silence. They walk to the reception, hand in their keys, and meet the rest of the passengers in the parking lot, where a new bus is waiting.

 

Eddie climbs onto this new bus after handing in his luggage, and flops into a window seat. He watches Richie climb on, uncertainty pooling in his stomach. Sure, they shared the same bed last night, and they kissed, but as Eddie watches Richie pick his way down the gangway of the bus, he cannot help but panic that Richie will sit somewhere else.

 

The apprehension is chased out of Eddie’s body immediately, however, because Richie falls into the seat next to him.

 

‘This doesn’t have to be weird, you know. We don’t have to talk about last night if you don’t want to – we

don’t have to make it a thing’ Richie says, voice steady, as he’s twisting in his seat so he’s looking at Eddie.

 

‘what if I … what if I want it to be a sort of thing?’ Eddie whispers, a barely there murmur, scared that if he said it any louder Richie might flap away like a startled bird.

 

Richie just smiles at him, and takes Eddie’s hand.

 

* * *

  
The rest of the journey passes tediously, but uneventfully.  Eddie tells Richie about the funeral arrangements, and he laments bitterly about all of the relatives he’s going to have to see, and how they’re going to spend the entire four days he’s in Maine telling him he’s Beelzebub incarnate. Desperate to steer the conversation away from the melancholy reason for his own pilgrimage back to Maine, Eddie asks about Richie’s family.

 

 ‘Are you close with your family?’ Eddie asks, curious.

 

‘I haven’t seen them for nearly a year, ya know. I sort of miss my sister, I guess, but there’s such a huge age gap that we don’t have all that much in common. I mean, there’s only so many times I can pretend to be interested in whatever youtuber she’s obsessed with before I want to flay myself. There’s no weirdness or resentment, I’m not on bad terms with them or anything, and they’re not bad people, We’re just… not close. It happens sometimes.’

 

Richie doesn’t look sad, sending a shrug and a small smile over to Eddie, genuinely unaffected. Eddie squeezes his hand. Richie squeezes back.

 

Soon after, the bus pulls into the terminal in Derry. They both clamber off the bus, legs shaky and eyes heavy. Eddie watches Richie strut around like a peacock, stretching his legs and making these ridiculous moaning sounds as he stretches his back. The noises cause the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck to prickle, standing to attention, but he ignores them. He looks around at the familiar landmarks, that ridiculous Paul Bunyan statue that he can see looming in the distance, and the sad little ice-cream shop opposite the bus terminal. Derry looks exactly the same, as if he had never left. As if it was suspended in a time capsule, perpetual and unchanging.

 

Richie, who notices the discomfort written plainly across Eddie’s face, presses a small piece of notebook paper into Eddie’s palm.

‘It’s my phone number, y’know, if you need it. I’ll come get you, if you need me to. I’ll be able to use the old man’s car, so just gimme the signal and I’ll come rescue you’

 

Eddie doesn’t know what to say, so he just smiles a small, sad smile.

 

‘I promise’

 

With that, Eddie hitches his large backpack up on his shoulder, before walking off in the direction of his childhood home.

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie gets as far as the porch before he has to sit down. His stomach churns threateningly. Working on autopilot, Eddie pulls his phone out of his pocket.

 

**To: Richie:**

I can’t make myself walk in the fucking door

 

**From: Richie:**

guessing this is eddie spaghetti? wheres ur house?

Eddie tells him, not expecting anything more than a supportive text in response, but soon enough an old silver car pulls into his driveway. Richie steps out from behind the wheel, and slams the door. Eddie, who was cradling his head in his hands, groans weakly.  Richie slumps down beside him on the rickety wooden step, and presses a small kiss to the side of his face.

 

‘You’re okay, Eds’ Richie whispers

 

‘I am now’ Eddie returns, immediately.

 

Richie grabs Eddie’s hand. Eddie breathes.

 

* * *

 

The house looks the exactly the same as it always had, and Eddie almost smiles at that. His mother was nothing if not consistent he thinks idly. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust, though, and Eddie wonders how much of it was there before she died. Richie clings to his hand, a lifeline in unfamiliar territory, before he lets go. They’re standing in the kitchen. Richie busies himself making coffee, with coffee beans Eddie is sure are as old as he is. He doesn’t say anything.

 

They sit at the kitchen table, mugs of steaming coffee clutched in their hands.

 

‘I’m going to come to the funeral with you’ Richie says, his words slicing through the pregnant silence.

 

‘No, Rich, you really don’t want to do that’ Eddie responds, clutching the mug tighter. The hot ceramic burns his hands.

 

‘Hmmm, I don’t _have_ to, but I sure as hell _want_ to, and I’m pretty sure you want me to come with you’

 

Eddie ducks his head, and stares at his feet. Richie stands up, and walks around the table so he’s standing behind Eddie. He bends forward, hooking his arms around Eddie’s neck.

 

‘I want to come with you, Eddie. Let me come with you’ he whispers into Eddie’s ear, warm breath sending a visceral shiver down Eddie’s spine.

 

‘You don’t even know me’

 

‘I know enough’ is all Richie says in reply.

 

‘Okay’ Eddie whispers back, turning his face just enough to catch Richie’s lips in a kiss.

 

Richie responds immediately, moving his lips against Eddie’s. They kiss for what could be ten minutes or ten days, Eddie wouldn’t be able to tell, before Richie pulls away.

 

‘Could we move this somewhere a bit more bed shaped? My back isn’t built for this kinda stuff’ Richie complains.

 

Eddie pulls him upstairs.

 

* * *

 

They walk into Eddie’s childhood bedroom, and Eddie’s chest constricts painfully. Richie walks around, picking things up off shelves, flicking through Eddie’s small record collection, skimming his fingers over the spines of Eddie’s books, lined up neatly on the shelf above his bed. Eddie stands in the doorway, watching. His hands are clasped behind his back. He digs into the fleshy part of his palm with his nail, leaving tiny crescent-shaped indents.

 

Richie perches on the edge of his bed, and beckons Eddie over. He goes willingly.

 

Before Eddie can properly sit down, Richie has reclaimed his mouth in a kiss. He dissolves, body and soul melting into the carpet. Richie crashed into him, waves of teeth, tongue and spit and Eddie clung on with both hands. He was starving, and he never wanted to know what it felt like to be hungry again. There’s a small part of him that sounds suspiciously like his mother screaming about how reckless he’s being, how Richie is nothing more than a glorified stranger, but that small voice is drowned out by Eddie’s heaving breaths, and how much kissing Richie feels like breathing for the first time.

 

‘What do you want, baby?’ Richie moans into the spot just below the hinge of Eddie’s jaw.

 

‘Everything’

 

Eddie gives himself to Richie. Completely. Utterly.

 

* * *

  

Eddie doesn’t dream that night.

 

* * *

 

Eddie wakes up to a mottled grey sky. The perfect pathetic fallacy for what he’s sure is going to be a truly miserable day.

 

The body next to him shifts, and a heavy arm drapes itself over Eddie’s mid-section.

 

He releases the breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

 

* * *

  

‘Beloved family and friends, we have gathered here on the saddest of days to celebrate the life of Sonia Jane Kaspbrak, a cherished member of the Derry community who will be so sorely missed by those who loved her, Sonia was a truly –‘

 

Eddie doesn’t listen to the rest of what the priest has to say, standing at the lectern with a carefully schooled sorrowful expression.

 

Eddie squeezes Richie’s hand.

 

Richie squeezes back.

 

* * *

 

‘... and now, Sonia’s only son, Edward, will give a short speech about his late mother’

 

Eddie stands up, and wordlessly walks to the front of the church.

 

‘Sonia was my mother. She raised me by herself when my father died, and she didn’t do a very good job. She was cruel, and she lied to me. She rejected me when I needed her most. But I don’t blame her. I wasn’t who she wanted me to be. But she wasn’t who I wanted her to be, she wasn’t who I _needed_ her to be. My mother’s name was Sonia Kaspbrak, and I have no real idea who she was. And she didn’t know who I was. Who I am. She never will. I think I’m okay with that’

 

* * *

 

Eddie travels back to Florida two days after the funeral.

 

* * *

 

 

**To: Rich <3:**

when does your bus get in?

 

**From: Rich <3:**

In about an hour!!!!!!

 

**To: Rich <3:**

I’ll meet you at the station x

  

**Author's Note:**

> I started posting this a while ago as a chaptered fic but I decided to delete it, and post it as a one-shot. Here is said one-shot.
> 
> I hope you liked it!
> 
> I'm on tumblr @ queen-sock.tumblr.com


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